


something or other and more of the same

by N1VA



Series: old stuff new exposure [22]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, uhhh sickfic i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29276613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1VA/pseuds/N1VA
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Series: old stuff new exposure [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149803
Kudos: 13





	something or other and more of the same

“Master Wayne, I suggest that you turn in for the night. Surely you need rest, after your patrol.”

Bruce paced back and forth across the large room, all the Batman gear off. He’d been out that night, as Batman, and run into Joker. Joker, who wasn’t looking so hot. Joker, who insisted he was fine but coughed and coughed and couldn’t catch a clear breath. Bruce didn’t even need to beat him into submission. In the end Bruce let him go, he couldn’t take Joker to Arkham in a state like that in good conscious. He knew all too well what went down there.

Bruce went home reluctant and worried. He’d considered subduing Joker and taking him back to the cave. He didn’t, but Bruce wished he had. Joker rarely wasn’t up for fighting, even when he was hurt or sick or anything really, he could take whatever Bruce had to give him. A strong breeze might have been able to knock him over today from the looks of it.

“Alfred… I can’t sleep. He’s sick, or hurt, or something… I should have taken him in but I couldn’t…” Bruce sighed. He stopped pacing for a moment, looked at Alfred, ran a hand through dark hair. Started pacing again.

“I assume you mean the Joker, Master Wayne. Might I remind you the man is more than capable of taking care of himself? He’s survived through much worse, I’m certain. You sir, however, need rest, before you wind up in a state as dire as his own.”

Bruce shook his head. He couldn’t sleep. Not like this. His every thought revolved around Joker. Bruce knew he wouldn’t truly rest until he knew Joker would be okay. He resigned himself to simply suffering until then.

It’s not like he cared about Joker. Really. He just tends to worries a lot. About a lot of different things. Joker happened to be one of those things. And if Bruce noticed the man looked a little thinner than last time, or that he was somehow even more pale than usual, or maybe his eyes held that glossy glaze that told Bruce he was dosed, then that was only his vigilante over-observance kicking in. He certainty didn’t look for that kind of stuff when they fought. He didn’t want to stop everything in those moments and take all of Joker’s pain away.

He didn’t feel anything for Joker other than pure, unadulterated hatred.

Alfred heaved a great, long suffering sigh and gave up in his mission to put Bruce to bed. Despite knowing Bruce since childhood, he still hadn’t found a sure-fire way to get the man to listen to him. He walked from the room with a defeated slump to his shoulders.

Bruce continued his pointless pacing until he heard the distinct sound of rain pattering against the roof. Then his heart started pounding. He froze in his tracks. Something was off…

Arms snaked around him from behind, coming up to cover his eyes. A body pressed to his own, cold and wet and seemingly shivering.

“Guess who?” a rough voice rumbled into his ear. Bruce would know that tone anywhere. Regardless of how hoarse it was at the moment.

His reflexes kicked in second too late. Bruce grasps both of Joker’s wrists, pried them away, twisted them as he turned his whole body to glare at the man himself. Joker’s knees buckled from the sudden shock of pain rushing up both his arms. Bruce abruptly let go. Joker rubbed his wrist and gazed up at him from under dark lashes.

“Sorry! It’s, just, sorry, you know, reflexes… Here let me…” Bruce stuttered. He did feel bad about that, Joker hadn’t done anything to warrant the attack this time. He helped Joker to his feet. He really did look awful.

Dark circles under Joker’s bloodshot eyes, the makeup had run from sweat and rain, his hair stuck together in damp tufts, and his entire body was shivering helplessly. He must have been running a fever as well, because his skin was burning where Bruce had touched it. Bruce was surprised he managed to stand on his own.

“You don’t look so good, Joker…”

“I’m fine! Just, a little under the weather… You know how it is.” Joker rasped.

“Would you at least take something for that cough?”

“No, no, no. Brucey, I don’t, uh, take meds, for anything. That’s what those brutes at Arkham are for.”

Just after he said that, he broke into a fit of wheezing so bad he needed to grab onto Bruce’s bicep to remain upright. Joker gasped until finally he took a clean breath, and Bruce decided then that he was going to take his medicine whether he liked it or not.

“Wait here.” Bruce said in a firm tone. Joker looked at him with a distant gleam in his dark eyes, nodded, still breathing harshly.

With that Bruce shuffled into the adjoined kitchen, didn’t bother to turn on any lights. He blindly rooted around for the bottle of Nyquil he knew Alfred kept in there. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the bottle in question fell to the floor with a harsh clang. Bruce knelt down and picked it up, before taking it back to the room where the other man was.

Joker was still in the same position as he was when Bruce left, though his eyes had fallen shut.

“Take this.” Bruce intoned.

Joker slit his lids open to gaze suspiciously at the bottle. He growled softly.

“I told you, I won’t take that shit. It’ll just make me feel worse.” Joker all but snarled. Even in his sickness he managed to be the terrifying figure Bruce was so used to chasing all across Gotham.

“You’re taking this right now. I don’t care if you like it, or if you want it, you are going to take it.”

“Make me.”

Bruce felt the anger rising in him, but he willed it back into it’s box. This wasn’t the time to go beating the Joker into a bloody pulp, no matter how annoying he got. So Bruce chose the other option, rising to the bait. He steeled himself for what he was about to as he cracked open the cap, measuring out the proper dose. But instead of taking it to Joker directly, he poured it into his own mouth. Bruce closed the distance between them and roughly, suddenly, forced Joker’s mouth against his own.

Joker gave a muffled cry of surprise, his jaw dropping just enough for Bruce to shove his tongue in. It was the worst tasting kiss either had ever shared. To Bruce’s abject horror, it was also very easily the best kiss he’d had in… as long as he could remember. It made him wonder why he bothered with all those shallow. vapid, just-for-show models.

He stayed put until he felt Joker swallow, some of the medicine had run from where their lips connected but Joker had managed to get most of it. Bruce almost mourned the loss of warmth when the kiss ended, a long string of saliva still connecting them. Joker stared at him with wide eyes and blown pupils.

“When I said make me…” Joker grinned.

“Is that not what you meant?” Bruce played along.

“Well… If we’re done here, maybe I should get going… Long drive home and all that…”

“Stay.” Bruce said, a bit too quickly for someone who claimed to hate Joker.

“If you’re sure.” Joker didn’t really seem to have an issue with the invitation.

“I don’t think you’re fit to be driving in that rain, is all.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re worried about little ol’ me?” Joker practically purred. He ran his fingers over Bruce’s chest. Feather-light and barely there at all.

Bruce instinctively grabbed Joker’s hips to mold their bodies into each other. Then, purely on a whim, he lifted the man, picked him up off the floor in one smooth motion. Joker wrapped his legs around Bruce’s waist. Tucked his face into the crook of his neck, his hair tickling the flesh.

“Are you taking me to bed, Batsy?” Joker asked softly.

Bruce didn’t respond verbally, choosing to let Joker come to his own conclusions. But he did walk down the hall, up the flight of stair, to his room. Joker giggled the whole way.


End file.
